Autumn in Athens

Autumn in Athens,
pulls me back to old memories.
"I have been here before," I thought.
I recognized these people,
and these roads on this journey,
the grasses, the trees, the rocks, the chirping of birds, and the stars,
"I have known all of them before."

I watched the leaves falling one by one,
and trees slowly sleep during winter,
and the buzzing of the increasingly cold wind gently twist my hair,
altogether sucked memories back step by step to Athens.

But Athens has changed.
It grows, it dances, it enlarges, it rises, and it begins to disappear in my dream,
in my memory.
Or, in fact, Athens has never changed.
It is me who alter, into water.
It is me who forget the history.
Autumn in Athens stabs my memory,
and my story.